I don't think survival is the question. Although numb
with shock and drenched in grief, we get up in the morning. We brush our teeth.
In my case, I had two daughters, one almost seven and the other 3 months old, to
care for. We cry. We scream. We comfort one another. We go back to work. We
take on the trappings of an ordinary life, carrying on in the blind faith that
our insides will someday match the artificial normality of our outsides. Or we
find our days transformed by what we have lost, not only our loved ones but our
belief in the decency of our fellow humans and our sense of safety in the
world. Some families dedicate themselves to finding the killer or to
participating in punishment. Others become radicalized in other ways.
In other words,
we do what seems best to us in order to survive. We do everything except tend
to the grievously wounded parts of ourselves.
We know today
that post-traumatic illness is not limited to soldiers in battle or the
surviving loved ones of murder victims. We know that for most of us, it does
not go away simply because we ignore it. Some people live reasonably functional
lives by walling off their pain like an abscess, refusing to talk about it and “acting
as if” everything is fine. I make no judgment about them; I am the last person
to advise anyone else about how to live with something only they can
understand. I know only that I was not among them.
I tried my
hardest to be strong. Instead, I broke.
The man who
killed my mother had pleaded guilty to a lesser charge, thus sparing my family the
ordeal of a trial but leaving many questions unanswered. In 1995, he became
eligible for his first parole hearing. There was no question in my mind about
attending and speaking against his release. I poured myself into writing a
speech, I marched into San Quentin Prison, I stood up in the presence of the
perpetrator, I addressed the Parole Commissioners in the strongest possible
language, and then I went home.
I thought it was
over when parole was denied. I was wrong.
A year later, I
went into a psychological and spiritual crisis. A series of increasingly
troubling symptoms should have alerted me to my own emotional deterioration,
but I clung too tightly to the appearance of normality to pay attention. When
the break came, I folded like a house of cards: I couldn't eat, I couldn't
sleep, I couldn't stop crying. I would look in the mirror and not recognize the
person who looked back at me. It seemed to me that nobody was home behind those
glassy, deer-in-the-headlight eyes. I've heard almost those same words from
other murder victim family members. I call us “murder survivors.” This time,
there was no question of “carrying on.” Slowly and painful, with many missteps
and amazing, often unexpected, kindness from those around me, I began to heal
from the inside out.
Because I am a
writer, much of what I experienced — not the external circumstances but the
emotions and insights — made its way into my stories. Why
fiction? Stories keep our intellects busy while the deeper parts of our psyches
grapple with things that are not easily put into words.
I am not a
psychotherapist or an expert on recovery from trauma. Nor am I a military
veteran or law enforcement officer, or war refugee, or family member of someone
who has been executed, so I cannot speak from my own experience about the
horrendous stresses those people face. However, I have found that I have much
in common with folks who suffer from post-traumatic illness from other causes. I
have exchanged support and become an ally of family members of offenders, as
well. Their grief and pain is no less overwhelming than my own.
We are all
survivors, and all of us are wounded in ways we sometimes cannot name. And there is hope for all of us. One of
the most powerful ways we can help one another is by telling stories and
listening to each other with open hearts.
You are not what
happened to you, and you are not alone.
About the campaign:
#HoldOnToTheLight
is a blog campaign encompassing blog posts by fantasy and science
fiction authors around the world in an effort to raise awareness around
treatment for depression, suicide prevention, domestic violence
intervention, PTSD initiatives, bullying prevention and other mental
health-related issues. We believe fandom should be supportive, welcoming
and inclusive, in the long tradition of fandom taking care of its own.
We encourage readers and fans to seek the help they or their loved ones
need without shame or embarrassment.
Please
consider donating to or volunteering for organizations dedicated to
treatment and prevention such as: American Foundation for Suicide
Prevention, Home for the Warriors (PTSD), National Alliance on Mental
Illness (NAMI), Canadian Mental Health Association, MIND (UK), SANE
(UK), BeyondBlue (Australia), To Write Love On Her Arms and the National
Suicide Prevention Hotline.
To find out more about #HoldOnToTheLight, find a list of participating authors and blog posts, or reach a media contact, go to https://www.facebook.com/groups/276745236033627/
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